


Fools Dream Big

by Castile181



Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: F/M, LACE doesn't apply, Smut, Spanking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-10
Updated: 2015-04-10
Packaged: 2018-03-22 04:49:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,691
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3715684
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Castile181/pseuds/Castile181
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Upon her arrival to Menegroth, Artanis finds herself suddenly struck by strange new desires as well as an urge to cast off the yoke of purity that she feels was forced upon her in Aman. She thus embarks upon a desperate attempt to be rid of her cumbersome virginity, enlisting the help of the Sindarin prince who sparked those forbidden desires in the first place. He agrees enthusiastically, only to later realize that he may be on the losing end of what had originally seemed a deal that would work in his favor.</p><p>It's basically just pure smut.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fools Dream Big

“You’re stupid do you hear? Just a stupid girl!” The young man spat and Artanis froze. That, at least she had understood. If this had been Valinor she would have slapped him straight across the face and told him exactly what she thought of his rudeness. But, as the matter stood, she was in Menegroth and she had no idea what to do. Her Sindarin was not even passably good and, confronted with anger, she forgot what Sindarin she did know so that her mind turned completely blank while her face turned a glowing shade of crimson.

“I…I didn’t know I had agreed to anything…” she murmured and the elf just leered at her. 

“Why don’t you leave her alone,” a cool, calm voice came from behind her, a voice she recognized, and she swallowed hard, mortified that _he_ had seen what had happened. 

“She said she would go to the dance with me and now she has refused me!” The young elf protested.

“Perhaps she did not understand what she was agreeing to,” the deep voice said. “Indeed, I rather think that must be the case seeing how completely inadequate a man you are. You ought not try to take advantage of foreigners who are not yet familiar with our ways or our language.” The boy seemed to realize then to whom he was speaking and came to his senses, ducking into an awkward bow. “That was a command – when I told you to leave her alone,” the owner of the deep voice said, “not a request.” The owner of the deep voiced scoffed in disdain and added, “and do see that you remember to whom you are speaking.”

“Y…y…your royal highness…” the boy stammered before scurrying away like a dog with his tail between his legs. Artanis dared not raise her eyes from the ground for she knew what she would find, or rather whom – the silver haired crown prince of Doriath, Celeborn. She had admired him from afar, covertly of course, had exchanged pleasantries with him, well as far as she could speak them at least. In truth, there was something about him that intrigued her very much, and something else…something about him that seemed to set her blood aflame so that fire coursed through her body, igniting every part of her. 

Of course, she’d had plenty of experience with attractive men in Aman – too much experience perhaps – and it had jaded her. For so many of the princes of Aman, courtship had seemed just a necessary precursor to getting what they really wanted, which was between her thighs, and too many times had she taken a budding interest in a young suitor only to hear through rumors that he had said something to the fact that putting up with her annoying and abrasive personality would all be worth it if he managed to get his hands inside her bodice or up her skirt. Abrasive: that was what they called her. They said it behind her back until she rejected them, then they said it to her face, and to anyone who would listen, slandering her up and down the streets of Tirion if they were Noldor, the slopes of Taniquetil if they were Vanyar, or Alqualondë if they were Teleri.

She had had enough of it eventually: enough of their false overtures, enough of their filthy lust, enough of their stupid presents that she had never liked anyway. It seemed such a simple thing to ask, someone who loved her for who she was, and yet it was such an impossible thing to find. That was when it had started: the fear. Every time someone had showed interest in her she had begun to immediately assume that what he really wanted was simply to fuck her and be done with her. She began to distrust them all. Sex was their weapon and she wanted nothing to do with it. Because what if she made a mistake? What if she misjudged one of them and gave in? Then they would be running through the streets of Tirion, and Taniquetil, and Alqualondë _bragging_ about it, about her, as if she was nothing more than some trophy, some prize, calling her a slut. 

That had been impressed upon her from a young age, not necessarily by her parents, but simply by the culture: that she was worthless as a bride, as a wife, if she were not pure. But she was constantly surrounded by leering young elves who wished nothing more than to take that from her. And so the stakes had grown higher, and higher, and higher until she had been unable to deal with it any longer and she had fled to Finarfin’s arms in tears, sobbing that she did not want to entertain any more suitors. He had understood of course, as he always did, even though she had not explained to him the reasons. After that the guards had kept the suitors away per her father’s orders. But the guards could not keep away the lesson that she had learned: that sexual desires were something that were and ought to be shameful.

Thus, upon their arrival to Menegroth, after Thingol and the royal family had greeted them in the king’s great hall, and after the splendid banquet at which she had looked up to find the silver-haired prince’s leaf-green eyes fixed upon her, and then after she had finally been shown to her new rooms and left there in solitude and peace, it had been with great shame but burning need that she had climbed into bed, sliding beneath the covers, tugging the hem of her silken slip up, and slipped her delicate hand with eager fingers between thighs that seemed to burn with some glorious heat. 

Biting her lip to keep from crying out, she had remembered the prince’s eyes and the way he had watched her unafraid, unashamed, his interest blatant rather than secretive or cunning and, as she thought of him, and that magnificent silver hair, and the way the light had slid across the skin that his open collar showed, she had worked her fingers back and forth within her until they, and her entire hand, and the sheets, were slick with the liquid that seemed to be gushing out of her. In a mass of burning heat, she had come – hard – harder than she ever had – the tight muscles of her vagina clenching around, constricting her fingers. A single word had escaped her lips, “Celeborn,” she has whispered to her silent bedroom, a Sindarin word, one of her first. And it had been the first of many times that she would pleasure herself while thinking of him, the first of many times that she would whisper his name aloud to the dark. In fact, she did it so often now that she could hardly pass him in a corridor or see him in Thingol's court without breaking out into a furious blush.

Having lost herself in her thoughts, especially thoughts of that nature, she blushed a violent shade of crimson and snapped her head up from where she had been staring at the ground to meet the eyes of the prince that…well…she felt ashamed admitting it even to herself…the handsome prince who was the inspiration for her recent nocturnal activities. She meant to stammer her apologies for her long silence and absentmindedness to him but, before she could speak, he began laughing and she blushed again, thinking he was laughing at her.

“Fools dream big, don’t they?” He said, in reference of course to that horrid young man, and it took Galadriel a moment to puzzle out the meaning of what he had just said, for she was not comfortable at all with Sindarin idioms. She glanced towards him and found him watching her in that way of his, arms crossed comfortably over his chest, leaning back on his heels. His gaze caused her heart to leap into her throat and she swallowed hard. His eyes were startlingly green, the color of pines, his hair of the brightest silver, like a shower of stars, the collar of his tunic was slightly open, revealing dusky skin, and Artanis’s eyes lingered on his shoulders, his broad chest, the shapeliness of his form for a moment before she remembered that she ought not stare. 

It was horrible, she thought, that he had seen. Her second thought was that her attraction to him was indecent, considering all things, considering that he was a Sinda and she a Noldo. She swallowed hard once more. And yet she could not shake the feelings that had been planted.

“Well I hope you shall be attending the dance anyway,” he said to her, “despite this unpleasant incident. If he bothers you any more be sure to tell me and I shall set guards on him.” Having said that, he strode away, between the trees and over the creeks of the underground forest that was Menegroth, munching on a bit of lembas that he had pulled from the pocket of his breeches and dusted of lint before eating. That had been meant to be a royal gift, she was sure, and she wondered how he had managed to nick the nearly sacred bread from the kitchens without being caught. She could not help the laugh that escaped her, nor the grin that curled her lips. He was a very curious man.

Thus, she could not stop thinking of him as she readied herself for the party, the handmaidens flitting about her like nervous butterflies, lacing her ornate, red, silk, dress that was covered in gold lace and embroidery, fastening the golden necklace of rubies, and sapphires, and emeralds about her neck so that the gems fell to pool in her cleavage, which the tightness of the bodice only served to accentuate. Her hair they brushed back but left loose, for it was her greatest beauty and needed no embellishment.

She had arrived to the party on Finrod’s arm and passed polite conversation with many important people, but then the dancing had started – and that was where the trouble had begun. For many men had asked her to dance and she had turned them all away without a second thought not only because she had grown to dislike their advances, but because she could not tear her eyes from Celeborn, who was looking so very handsome in his grey velvet breeches, his black, silver-toed boots, and a cunningly embroidered tunic of rich green silk. Upon his head was his crown and his silver hair hung long and straight.

The sight of him had inspired certain thoughts in her head and, as she watched him from across the room, she imagined him taking her back to his rooms, throwing her down upon his bed, tearing off her constricting gown, and making love to her until neither of them could move any longer. His body must be very fine, certainly, for he was a warrior and, then again, it was easy enough to tell by looking at him, by the way he carried himself and the manner in which his clothes draped across his muscles, that his body must certainly be a work of art. She had indulged, overindulged perhaps, in wine and maybe that had been why, having the sudden mad thought to make her dreams into a reality, to replace the fingers she sheathed so deeply within herself each night with his cock, she had suddenly strode across the room with a very coquettish swagger, extended her hand to him, and said the fateful words: “Prince Celeborn, would you like to dance?”

The hall had gone so silent that you could have heard a pin drop and, feeling the gaze of so many suddenly fixed upon her, the implications of what she had done all began to assault her at once. She glanced around frantically, seeking the king’s eyes, Melian’s, Finrod’s, and they had all been shocked. Then there had been other faces, many faces in the hall showing outright disapproval, anger even. A woman asking a man to dance – it was unheard of. And the way she had approached him – so lasciviously – they must have discerned her impure thoughts. And a Sinda and a Noldo together…like that…it was unheard of. _Moriquendi_. Her people called them Moriquendi and here she had practically propositioned their prince. Her cousins would be up in arms about it and she would be slandered by the Noldor, who would say that Finarfin's daughter had begged for a Moriquendi’s cock like a dog.

She swallowed hard, mortified, her face burning red, and raised her eyes to Celeborn’s but she could read nothing in their depths. His face was impassive and, wordlessly, he had reached out, taking her hand to lead her in the dance. She could hardly manage it, having forgotten the steps in the wake of her embarrassment, treading on his toes, trembling beneath the touch of his hand. It was for duty’s sake, to salvage what vestiges remained of her honor, she convinced herself, that he was even dancing with her at all. But she must have embarrassed him horribly. She must have just grievously insulted him. And, thinking such things, she could bear it no longer and, tearing her hand from his, she fled the hall in a panic, seeking solace in the solitude of her chambers. There would be no solace tomorrow once word had spread of what she had done. She would be shamed, ridiculed, made a fool. 

She was fuming with anger and shame as she exited the hall, caring not at all as she brushed past servants, wiping her hands on the silk of her overly extravagant party dress as if to be rid of the touch of his hands. It was stupid, stupid, stupid. She did not know what she had been thinking, asking him to dance. It was embarrassing, horribly embarrassing, no, not embarrassing – mortifying! She squeezed her eyes shut to stop the hot, angry tears that had swelled there, remembering how everyone had stared at her: Thingol, Melian, Lúthien. Finrod had looked as though he was about to choke on his wine, and she was certain that she had heard the tittering of laugher rise up in response to her egregious question. They had looked at her as though she were a dog with three heads.

“Prince Celeborn, would you like to dance?” She had asked with all the confidence in the world, in a very coquettish way to tell the truth. _Prince Celeborn, would you like to dance?_ She repeated the question in her mind, mortified, feeling yet another wave of crimson shame wash over her. She had laid her desire bare before all of them, inadvertently, unthinkingly. They had all realized the implications of her question. She had only realized them for herself as the looks of disbelief had dawned on all their faces. 

_Nerwen!_ She cursed herself. Ladies weren’t supposed to do that type of thing! And yet she had forgotten, in her wave of confidence and joy and subtle flirtation, that she needed to act the lady, to leave her tomboyish days behind. She had practically emasculated him by asking that question. And, what was worse, she had blatantly and publicly declared her affection for him. Not in those specific words of course but everyone had understood what she meant when she had asked: _Prince Celeborn would you like to dance?_ They all knew what it meant and she was certain that her relatives would all hear about it soon enough: how the daughter of Finarfin had foolishly doted on a grey elf, the twilight prince. They would mock her. 

But that wasn’t the worst thing. That wasn’t what drove tears to her eyes now, what was causing the thundering of her heart. The worst thing had been Celeborn’s reaction. No, he had not stared at her in scorn and disbelief as the others had. He had been perfectly gentlemanly in rescuing her, as best he had been able at least, from the terribly shameful situation into which she had plunged herself. His face had remained completely impassive and, with a small and courteous bow he had taken her hand and led her in the dance. All the while he had said nothing, nor had he showed any emotion whatsoever, even when she trod on his toes, having forgotten the steps in her embarrassment. The discomfort had grown as, in his blank stare, she had imagined loathing, anger that she had disgraced him, embarrassed him so, that she had stepped so ridiculously out of line. 

As she had made to flee he had opened his mouth to say something, his eyes meeting hers, but she had not the heart to hear him reject her foolish advances and so she had fled, truly fled, practically running from the hall. She stopped then, for these corridors were less crowded, squeezing her eyes tight shut as she leaned back against the wall, her fingers grasping the stone. She was breathing hard from her escape, swallowed hard, choking back the tears that threatened to fall. The worst part of it was that Celeborn would never speak to her again; he would despise her. 

There were quick footsteps approaching now and, not wishing to talk to anyone, she turned and resumed her retreat, wiping her tears on her sleeve, but someone reached out, catching her arm, turning her about. It was Celeborn in his fine silks and silver-toed boots, looking so very regal with his long, straight silver hair and his crown. He looked so very handsome tonight, and that had inspired her foolishness. It was her anger that came out first. “Am I such a horrible dancer that you could not bear me?” She asked, her voice sounding strangled for the tears she held back. “Am I so loathsome to all of you?” She cried, her anger coming fully loose. His face was not impassive now, not as it had been on the dance floor. Rather, there was some emotion there, some emotion she did not recognize and his eyes, oh his green eyes filled with that strange darkness seemed to be burning their way straight through her. 

“Not to me, no,” he said, his voice a murmur, and before she really knew what was happening, he had taken her head in his hands, his lips meeting hers in a bruising kiss as he pressed her back against the wall so hard she nearly felt he would crush her. He parted her lips with his tongue and she, surprised, opened her mouth to him. He tasted of snow, and the wild, and darkness. It took a moment for Artanis to recover, for it was so very shocking and so very surreal; the man for whom she bore such great and secret affection was kissing her, kissing her! And she had never been kissed like this! She struggled to understand it.

But it finally occurred to her that she ought to kiss him back and so she did, like flood gates breaking, tangling her hands in his hair, pulling him as close as she could, her tongue meeting his, and she felt the rest of her body awaken as he gathered her in his arms, his mouth firm against hers, devouring her. If this were Aman he would doubtlessly be put in the stocks for this sort of behavior, for displaying such carnal affection publicly, to a princess no less. She was sure he was aware of that and, from what she knew of Celeborn already, she was sure he did not care. She could hardly breathe from his enthusiasm and she pressed her hands gently against his chest. He stepped back, looking at her. 

She was already ruined. She didn’t care what people said now and so she looked him straight in the eyes and said, breathlessly, “I want you. I want to fuck you.” The lust that was evident in her voice surprised even herself. She was shocked by her own forwardness. She had never even courted anyone, never even been touched _that_ way, much less lain with a man before. And now she had just propositioned Celeborn of Doriath, the Prince of Doriath. She nearly thought she was out of her mind except that she knew with more certainty than she had ever known anything, that this was what she wanted; that she did not want to be Artanis, to be Nerwen anymore. She did not want to be shamed any longer, to feel embarrassed for being who she was. And Celeborn had not minded, indeed, that forwardness had enticed him, had brought him running after her.

“Good,” Celeborn said in response, his voice resolute, his eyes locked on hers, “because that is what I want as well and that is the reason I could not speak or hardly look at you just a moment ago in the dance. I thought that if I did I would be able to control myself no longer, that I would throw you down on the floor in front of everyone and fuck you so hard that you would not remember how to walk. You have no idea how long I have wanted you.” Artanis felt her mouth drop open at that and her eyebrows shoot up. 

“What?” He asked her, unperturbed. “I am only being honest with you.”

“That is exactly what surprises me,” she said. “No one has ever admitted that before.” She cocked her head quizzically, looking at him. “You don’t want courtship…marriage?” 

He shook his silver head, watching her as though he were a starving man and she the last bit of food in the world. “All I want is you and me in a bed, together…and me in you, obviously,” he said. “Does that make it clear enough?”

“Abundantly,” she said, taking a deep breath, almost unable to believe what she was agreeing to at this very moment, and yet it seemed…so very natural and she wanted it so very badly. She would cast off this yoke of pure sanctity. Too long had she endured the dreary proposals of princes she cared nothing for. Too long had her future been in the hands of others, others who would squabble and fight over her bride price when she knew and they knew that what they really wanted was to lie with her, though they never voiced it. Very well then, she would lie with someone and no longer would she fear the weight of that ponderous virginity hanging over her. No longer would that be the measure of her worth.

“Your quarters?” She asked, her heart hammering in her chest. He shook his head.

“Yours,” he said. “You’d be more comfortable in your own bed wouldn’t you? Besides, then you won’t have to walk back in the morning with everyone looking at you. It’s easier, you know, for a man to do that, people don’t judge us the same way.”

She nodded, “I know exactly what you mean. Come,” she said and they had made the short trek to her chambers. The maids had stared at her in shock for a moment.

“What are you looking at? She can do as she likes,” Celeborn said to them and they scurried away. It was obvious what she and Celeborn were about to do and yet she did not care what others thought. Let them go and say that she was a whore, that she had bedded a dark elf, that she was impure. She relished the freedom it would bring her. Celeborn was a prince in his own right, the prince of all Beleriand, Thingol’s most trusted advisor, the equal in every way to any of her cousins, though they would never acknowledge that themselves. And besides, what right did anyone have to judge her for what she chose to do in her own bed?

The door had hardly closed behind the maids before Celeborn had her pressed up against the wall again and she opened her mouth to him, tasting him, kissing him so hard the two of them could hardly breathe, feeling the edge of his tongue against her own. She moaned into his mouth, her hands roaming over his back, relishing in the solidity of him. The feeling of his muscles beneath his tunic was driving her mad and her hands lingered on his strong back.

“Valar, this necklace was tormenting me – the way it was between your breasts!” He hissed, undoing the clasp that lay behind her neck and casting it aside, bending to kiss her cleavage where the jewels had lain only seconds ago. She groaned; it felt better than she had even imagined, his lips hot against her there, his teeth nipping at the sensitive skin. But she found that she wanted very much to see him naked and so she pressed her hands gently against his chest. He complied, stepping back, grinning as she fumbled with the clasps of his tunic, pushing it off. Just the feeling of his muscles through the fabric had already made her wet. 

He grinned, sensing her urgency. “I’m glad you’re so eager,” he said, holding out his arms and she pulled off his shirt, casting it aside with the tunic, gasping at what she had discovered concealed beneath it. He was indeed, as she had imagined, built as though he had been sculpted from marble, tanned skin stretched taut across strong muscles, and she stared at him in awe. He was, if possible, even more attractive than she had previously thought.

“Tell me what you think,” he said with a smile and she met his eyes, her lips just barely parted in wonder. 

“You are…perfect,” she stammered, wishing she could be more eloquent, but she was rather at a loss for words. “I…I…I’ve never been so…so wet in my life.” For some reason she felt no shame in admitting that to him. It seemed an adequate price to pay for the chance to see him unclothed.

“You can touch me, if you like,” he said with a grin, his green eyes seeming to smile at her, “in fact I very much hope you will.” And so she stepped forward, running her fingertips over the hard, toned muscles of his chest, his shoulders, ghosting across his lower back, over the rippling of his abdominal muscles, biting her lip as she touched the trail of silver hair that ran up from his breeches to his navel. Her eyes met his again and she grinned, certain he could see the lust evident in hers, just as she could see it in his.

“I have been told that the bottom half is rather nice as well,” he commented and they both laughed as she stepped forward, taking the buckle of his belt in her hands. There was something about this that felt as though, once she did it, she could never go back, and yet she was unafraid, for she felt comfortable and…happy, yes, that’s what this was. The belt fell, the buckle clattering to the floor, and she undid the buttons, slipping the breeches over his hips. That was when his cock sprang free and she had known it would, had expected it, for he had been hard since he had kissed her in the corridor, but it had still been a bit of a surprise and she had jumped a little before she stared at it, for she had never seen a real one before. Celeborn paused then, taking her hands in his.

“Wait,” he said, gently now, and she raised her eyes to his. She had hoped to get away with it without him noticing, but it seemed that her little charade was up now and she wondered what he would say. 

“Yes?” She asked him.

“Artanis,” he asked her, “is this…is it your first time? Have you never done this before?” She felt the heat of a blush rise to her cheeks.

“Is it so easy to tell?” She asked him, at last, though she had not wanted to admit it. “I don’t want to make a big deal over it. It isn’t important.”

“You just seem a bit surprised is all,” he said with a kind smile. 

“Do you mind?” She asked him and he shook his head.

“No. I was just surprised,” he told her.

“Why?” She asked. 

“You are so beautiful,” he said. “I would have thought you would have had plenty of suitors.”

“None I liked,” she said, and Celeborn seemed on the verge of asking her some question but he refrained and instead said, “are you sure that you want to do this?” He favored her with a questioning gaze, his hands gentle upon her hips. “I wouldn’t want to force you…to make you feel as though you had to do something you were not ready for.”

“I want this. I want you,” she said, meeting his gaze, assuring him that it was so. She could tell he was surprised that she wanted him for her first. They were, after all, from completely different sides of the world. In fact, her Sindarin was still not very good and she knew he must be thinking that she might be more comfortable with one of her own kind. “Are you good at it?” She asked, breaking the tension at last.

“At sex?” He seemed surprised by her question and laughed.

“What?” She goaded him with a smile. 

“I like your forwardness is all,” he said. “I find it refreshing.”

“Well are you?” She asked again.

“I like to think so,” he said.

“Then will you teach me?” She asked him. 

“If that is what you want then I assure you I am up to the task,” he confirmed. “If you are certain that you want me to be your first.”

“Yes, I am certain and yes, I can rather feel that you are up to the task,” she said, running a finger over his erection, which was standing at attention. He grinned at her in that self-assured way of his. 

“Then, forget what I said earlier about fucking you senseless and tell me what you want,” he said, meeting her gaze. “Tell me whatever you want and I shall do it. Your first time should be as pleasant as possible.”

“Then you must tell me what you like,” she said. “And I do want you to fuck me senseless.”

“Then I will,” he told her and he kissed her again, long and hard, his hands reaching for the laces of her dress, undoing them quickly, pushing the thing off of her, tearing at her petticoats and her slip until at last she was naked and he stepped back to look at her for a moment, shaking his head.

“I know you must hear it often,” he said, “but you really are so very beautiful.”

“My thanks,” she said with a smile, reaching out for him again, and he came to her, enfolding her in his arms, his hands running the length of her body, over her breasts, her hips, coaxing soft moans from her. It felt as though he were lighting her on fire and she could feel the moisture beginning to trickle down her legs from her soaking cunt. In a bold move, she reached out, wrapping her hand around the shaft of his cock, and began to stroke him slowly. He shivered, his eyes flicking shut for a moment and he groaned.

“I hope I shall hear much more of that tonight,” she said, leaning forward to whisper into his ear and he shivered again. For some reason, with Celeborn she did not feel ashamed at all. 

“You are driving me mad, woman,” he whispered before lifting her and carrying her to the bed. She relaxed as he lay her down in the soft sheets and climbed atop her. He kissed her again, deeply, biting at her bottom lip, tugging at it gently as his hands wandered over her skin, his thumbs flicking over her pert nipples and now it was her turn to shiver and moan. Soon he moved to kiss the juncture of her neck and shoulder, his teeth nipping lightly there and she gasped. Of course, she had heard other girls speak of this sort of thing but she had never understood, really, just how pleasurable it could be. This really was far better than doing things on your own.

“Artanis?” She heard Celeborn asking her softly and it took her a moment to realize he had said her name. 

“Huh?” She asked him. It seemed to be the only thing she could manage to verbalize.

“Tell me what you like,” he reminded her. 

“I like what you were just doing,” she murmured, gazing up at him lazily with a grin. “I was really enjoying myself.” 

“Were you?” He asked and with another laugh, he pressed his lips against hers, kissing her deeply before he peppered her chest with light kisses. Artanis sighed with contentment and then she wondered what it would be like if he kissed her breasts. It always felt very nice when she touched them herself. She was sure that it would be all the better if he did it.

“Celeborn?” She asked him, looking down with lust-hooded eyes and he glanced up towards her. “Could you…my breasts,” she said. His only reply was to take one of the nipples into his mouth, grazing his teeth across the tip as he grinned up at her. Artanis cried out in pleasure and threw her head back, arching her back. It was incredible and she felt the sensation shoot all the way down to the spot between her legs where the moisture was gathering, slipping a finger between her folds.

“I take it you like that,” Celeborn laughed before he bit gently at her nipple again. 

“Ai!” She screamed, writhing in pleasure as he sucked on it, rolling it between his teeth, lapping at it, kissing it. He licked his way around her breast, stopping to nibble every now and then, as she tried desperately to plunge her fingers further and further within her slick folds. But it seemed as though, no matter what she did, they could not fill her the way that she wanted.

“Oh, Valar, don’t forget the other one,” she gasped as she grabbed for his hand and pushed it to the breast he was not tending with his mouth. She heard his muffled laugh against her breast before he switched to the other breast, giving it the same careful attention. But Artanis groaned in agony as she felt him tugging at her hand, pulling it free from her cunt and holding it aloft, her fingers glistening with her juices. He sat up and regarded it as if it were a very interesting thing indeed, before he put her fingers in his mouth, licking them clean. There was something erotic about it and she felt as though he had ignited sparks within her.

“Surely you must pleasure yourself,” he said, meeting her gaze. 

“Of course,” she replied, “but it feels so much better when you pleasure me.” He reached out and tweaked her nipple with a grin. She squirmed. 

“Show me,” he said. 

“But I want you to touch me,” she replied breathlessly, already a bit annoyed that the warmth of his mouth had been removed from her breast.

He laughed. “I’m honored,” he told her, “but I want you to show me what you like so that I may do things as you like them.” 

“Well then,” Artanis said with a smile. It was a curious thing really, how comfortable she felt around him already, how much she was enjoying this and, more than that, how much fun they were having. She felt so very comfortable, so very at ease, and she reached down to her labia, feeling the wetness there that he had incited, and slipped a finger within herself once more. With her other hand she began to rub at her clitoris in small, slow circles as, with the tip of her finger, she rubbed against the top of her vaginal wall. She closed her eyes for a brief moment, groaning, and then opened them to find Celeborn watching intently and grinned, wanting to put on a show for him, to entice him. So she arched her back a bit and pushed her finger deeper inside of herself, rubbing, moving it slowly, enticingly in and out of herself. She had a lot of practice with that, after all.

He had been hard this entire time but he seemed to grow even harder now at the erotic sight of her pleasuring herself as he sat there watching her. “Do you like watching?” She whispered to him and he nodded. 

“Yes…” he said, “yes, you don’t know how I…” his voice trailed off and she heard him swallow as though his throat were intolerably dry.

“How you what?” She asked, relishing in this. “Tell me.” His green eyes, veiled with lust, met hers. 

“How I have imagined you doing this to yourself in lonesome nights,” he murmured. 

“You have?” She asked with a smile. His words had made her heart race. She found it incredibly alluring to know that he had thought such things about her, particularly considering the nature of the thoughts she had had about him. She rewarded him by inserting another finger in herself and Celeborn groaned, his eyes flicking shut for a moment as his hand went to his cock, lazily and loosely stroking it. He nodded. “You have had fantasies of me masturbating?” She asked.

“Yes,” he said with a groan. 

“Since when?” She asked, her lips curling into a pleased grin. She moaned, enjoying the feel of her fingers, increasing her pace slightly.

“The night I met you,” he said, his voice ragged. 

“How curious,” she replied. “I was thinking of you that night as I touched myself.” Celeborn’s motions stilled and his eyes met hers.

“You’ve thought of me while you’ve had your fingers in yourself?” He asked as though he could hardly believe it. Artanis bit her lip and nodded. 

“All the time,” she said. “I’ve always thought you handsome. And then, there was something about you that fascinated me.” Celeborn returned his hand to his cock, running his thumb over the weeping tip. “What do you do when you imagine me doing this?” She asked.

He closed his eyes for a moment, seeming to struggle with controlling himself, and then he opened them again, meeting hers. “I do this,” he said, stroking his hand down the shaft of his cock, bringing it back up again. She watched as a pearly drop of liquid formed at the tip. 

“And do you come?” She whispered. He nodded. 

“Yes,” he said.

“And what do you imagine when you come?” She asked him. 

“I imagine that you are beneath me,” he gasped, “that I’m coming inside you, filling you with it.” She gasped aloud, his words exciting her, and arched her back further, throwing her head back into the pillows for a moment before she regained control of herself.

“What are you thinking now,” he asked her and Artanis grinned, really wanting to make him squirm.

“How terribly empty my cunt feels,” she whispered, “how much I would like it to be filled with your cock.” Celeborn swallowed audibly.

“Tell me what it feels like, inside of you,” he begged her.

“Warm,” she groaned, arching her back, “and hot, and tight.” That seemed to nearly undo him and then he crawled up overtop of her, kissing her before, gently, he reached down and removed her slick fingers from vagina, licking them clean once more. 

Slowly, his eyes fixed on hers, he inserted a finger inside of her. His fingers were bigger, thicker than hers and she moaned at the feel of it, of knowing that some part of him was in her at last. He had paid close attention after all and she gasped as he crooked his finger, rubbing the tip gently over that place inside of her that caused her to orgasm. Then he did something incredible, which was that he lowered his mouth to her clitoris and licked across the top of it. She nearly leapt off the bed at the unbelievable feeling. That was yet another thing she had enviously listened to other girls talk about, wanting to experience it for herself. 

“Do you like that?” He asked her.

“Yes, yes, oh yes,” she gasped, reaching down for him, threading her hands through his magnificent silver hair, but he had already returned his mouth to her and she was writhing in pleasure at the fantastic feeling of his mouth on her clit and his finger moving within her. He inserted a second finger and she groaned, fisting her hands even more tightly in his hair. 

“That hurts,” he whispered and she released her grip somewhat. His tongue was moving in slow little circles over her clit and he was sucking on it, kissing it. She thought she would go mad and she was so wet now that Ulmo would have been impressed. Celeborn increased the pace of his fingers, his free hand moving to massage her breast and she cried out, recognizing the feeling of bliss that was coming over her, knowing that it would be only a few more moments before she came. But he stopped, withdrawing both his fingers and his mouth and Artanis groaned.

“Why have you stopped?” She panted as Celeborn moved over her, kissing her. 

“Because I am going to make you come with my cock instead,” he said and she stared at him. She had heard that was very difficult to do, nearly impossible with a first time partner.

“You are?” She asked him and he nodded. 

“I want this to be the best experience for you,” he told her. “Afterwards, if you like, I can do that again.” But Artanis had taken his broad shoulders in her hands and was pushing him down into the bed now, her hand going to grasp his thick cock. 

“But I want to do the same for you first,” she said.

“Only if you are certain,” he murmured, his green eyes filled with desire. 

“I’m certain,” she said before she took him in her mouth. She had heard some people say that the taste was unpleasant but she did not find it to be so, only a little salty. It was warm and the skin was soft, despite the hardness of the shaft. She went down as far as she could, but it was a bit much and she choked.

“You don’t need to if you don’t want to,” he whispered to her.

“I’m going to learn how,” she said, taking it slowly this time, acquainting herself with it and she felt him laugh, his cock vibrating in her mouth. 

“I like your determination,” he said. “It is very admirable.” She laughed around his cock and went as deep as she could again before sucking on him for a moment, her eyes meeting his and he groaned, grinning at her, his arms crossed lazily behind his head.

“Do you like it?” She asked him.

“Absolutely,” he told her. “I like it very, very much. You are doing a superb job.”

“Of course I am,” she replied with a wink and he laughed again, his laugh cut short by the groan he emitted as she licked across the head of his cock, tasting the salty liquid that was beading there. Then she moved down, flicking her tongue across the underside of the head just where it met the shaft and he writhed in pleasure as she set to work moving her mouth slowly up and down in rhythm with her hand. He clenched his eyes shut, panting. 

“Ai! Artanis!” He cried. “Artanis stop or I’ll come. Your mouth…it feels so good.” And she stopped, pleased with herself, pleased that she had brought him such pleasure as he had brought her. 

“I’m sure I’ll get better if I practice,” she said, licking her lips.

“You are welcome to practice on me any time you want,” he told her, still breathing hard, and she gave him a moment to relax, running her fingers over the muscles of his thighs, cupping his balls, which were already quite tight, in her hand. He had indeed been very close, or at least she had heard that’s what happened before they came. She asked him.

“Do they get tight like this just before you come?” She asked and he nodded.

“Yes,” he said. “I’ll warn you before I do. If you like I can pull out.”

“No,” she shook her head, remembering his fantasty he had told her of. “You can come inside me if you want.”

He groaned and pressed his hands over his eyes. “Artanis you undo me,” his gasped and she laughed. “Just don’t…be very careful not to think of elflings when I do come,” he told her.

“I won’t” she said, “and you had better not either. We wouldn’t want that would we? Are you ready?” She asked him and he shook his head no.

“I think I need just another moment,” he told her and she nudged him so that he turned over to lie on his front so that she could massage his back, admiring his strong shoulders and the fine line that ran from the nape of his neck to the small of his back. She traced it down and then, with a grin, smacked his perfect, taut, butt. 

“Oh is that what you’re in to?” She heard him murmur and she laughed. 

“I can be,” she said. “Are you ready yet? You’re supposed to be deflowering me as you promised.” He turned over, grinning at her.

“You are so impatient,” he said with a laugh. 

“Yes I am,” she informed him, “it always annoyed my mother.”

“Very well, come here,” he said, sitting up, and she scooted up the bed, lying down in the center of it. “Are you still wet?” He asked her, reaching down between her thighs to confirm it as she nodded. “And you are certain that this is what you want?” He asked her.

“Absolutely certain,” she said, smiling, reaching up for him. Her hips were twitching, as though her body was eager to welcome him within her. He positioned himself over her, spreading her legs, wrapping his arms around her, holding her close, his beautiful green eyes gazing into hers and, in that moment, she felt so very happy, so very safe, so very free.

“Are you ready?” He asked her softly. 

“More than ready,” she replied. And then he began to lower himself into her. The feeling of just the tip of his cock passing into her was amazing and she cried out, her eyes fluttering shut as she grasped at his strong shoulders. He stopped. 

“Are you alright?” He asked her, concerned, and she opened her eyes, wanting to see him, to see those beautiful green eyes of his. 

“Yes,” she gasped, “it feels incredible.” And it did, just the tip of it made her feel so very full, sent jolts of pleasure coursing through her. She wiggled beneath him, eager for the rest of him.

“Good,” he smiled. “Be sure you relax or it might hurt.” She nodded, concentrating on relaxing, and then she felt him begin to slide the rest in slowly. It continued until he was fully sheathed and she heard him groan, lowering his head to her chest, pausing. She felt as though her entire body was tingling with waves of pleasure and her cunt seemed to vibrate with a delicious tightness. 

“Tell me what it feels like,” she gasped, wanting to hear it from him. 

“Hot,” he groaned, “and wet, and tight, and…amazing.” He groaned again, nearly collapsing atop of her. “I’m sorry,” he panted then, “here I’ve told you I’m good at this and I can hardly hold myself together.” He looked up at her. “It is just that you are so incredibly beautiful and…wonderful.”

“That’s very kind of you to say,” she told him, smiling, reaching out to tuck his silver hair behind his ear.

“I mean it,” he told her.

“And I believe you,” she said. “After all, you have no reason to lie, you have already gotten what you wanted.” Some strange emotion flickered in his eyes for a second and then he began to move, rocking gently back and forth until she grew used to the rhythm, his lips meeting hers, kissing her gently.

“Are you alright?” He asked her. “Does it hurt?”

“It doesn’t hurt at all,” she told him, looking into his eyes, assuring him that she was well, better than well. “It is the best thing I have ever felt.” And it was the best thing, the feeling of him moving within her, of the heat of him, the hard length of him, thrusting up into her.

“I am glad,” he murmured against her lips, increasing his pace a bit and Artanis moaned, her hands going to his back, her nails digging into his flesh.

“Oh Valar,” she gasped, “don’t stop, Celeborn, don’t stop.” He was moving deep within her, each thrust sending jolts of pleasure rushing through her and she relished in the feel of his skin slick against her own, of their legs intertwined, their bodies burning with heat. “Yes, oh yes, oh yes,” she was panting and then he reached for her hips, pulling her legs up around his waist, his eyes meeting hers as he slowed his pace, giving her long, slow strokes that made her gasp in ecstasy and clench tight around his cock.

“How is it?” He asked her and she mouthed wordlessly at him for a moment before she remembered how to speak. 

“Perfect,” she said, “all of it is perfect. I believe you now, that you can make me come, I really do.” He grinned and laughed. She could feel his cock pulsing within her.

“And I shall,” he said, “many times.” She was already drawing close then and she watched as he sat back, continuing his long, slow strokes. Her eyes lingered on the way his abdominal muscles clenched and relaxed as he thrust in and pulled out over and over, at the strong hands that gripped her hips tightly. He was sweating, as was she, and his beautiful silver hair clung to his chest and back.

Then he looked up at her and she met his gaze as she began to thrust quickly, very quickly, and he lowered himself to his elbows once more, poised over her. The change in pace stimulated her insides, causing her to clench tightly around him. The head of his cock was making such strong and repetitive contact with that place within her that she thought she might go mad and she twisted and turned, arching her back up, crying aloud, and he wrapped an arm around her, pulling her close, holding her still so that she could not move and was at the complete mercy of his thrusts as he continued to pound into her. 

“Ai, Celeborn!” She cried out and then she felt it, although it was stronger than she had ever felt before, the sudden tightening as she felt as though everything had gone completely still. She arched up off the bed with her entire body, every muscle having gone tight, and she clenched hard around his cock, still buried within her, as tightly as she could, her whole body convulsing in white hot pleasure. She was quivering, every nerve feeling as though it had been set on fire, her body a mass of writhing ecstasy. Her mind was blank; she could think nothing until she collapsed, trembling and sweating, to the bed.

Celeborn grinned roguishly, “the best orgasm you’ve ever had, I trust?” He asked her and she nodded numbly.

“Absolutely the best,” she panted. He began to move again, slower now, and she loved the feeling of him between her legs, of him fully sheathed within her, their sweaty skin clinging together, the brush of that silver trail of hair across her belly. Now that she had come, the feeling of his cock within her was even more pleasurable, which she had not thought possible, and her cunt was so sensitive now that every movement, every twitch, ever thrust of his cock reverberated within her body.

“Do you want more?” He asked her and she nodded, her lust even greater than before.

“So much more,” she replied, “Celeborn, please, I beg you, fuck me until I can no longer walk.” 

“If that is what you wish then I shall be happy to oblige,” he murmured, meeting her lips in a bruising kiss. “Say it again,” he said.

“What?” She asked him.

“My name,” he whispered and she met his green eyes.

“Celeborn,” she whispered and he closed his eyes, groaning, stilling for a moment and she half wondered if he was about to come. But he calmed himself and then, to her great horror, he pulled out of her.

“Have I done something wrong?” She asked, worried, as she sat up, taking his hands in hers.

“No, not at all,” he said with a smile, “you are doing everything exactly right. It is only that I thought it might be exciting to change positions.”

She grinned and nodded as he lay back and pulled her atop him. She needed no guiding as to what to do, but straddled his hips and then, locking her eyes with his, she took his cock and lowered herself slowly upon it. He groaned and she saw the desire rise in his eyes as she slowly began to rock back and forth, getting used to this new position.

He smiled at her, reaching out to trace the curve of her hips, and as she bent forward so that she could kiss him, she felt his hands cup her breast. “You have the most perfect breasts,” he whispered against her lips and she grinned. “They are just the perfect size to fit in my hands.”

“Perhaps they were made for you,” she whispered. She had always thought them a bit on the small side to tell the truth, but if Celeborn said he liked them then she was pleased. She smiled and ground down hard against him, which made him cry out in pleasure as he threw his head back into the pillow, his silver hair spilling across the white sheets like rivers of moonlight. She put her hands on his shoulders and tried moving up and down that way. He seemed to like it, his lips parted ever so slightly. 

“Look at me,” she murmured and he opened his eyes, gazing at her. She grinned; she liked this. “Say my name,” she said, bending to whisper it in his ear and she felt him shiver as the heat of her words caressed his skin. But he opened his eyes and grinned up at her.

“Make me say it,” he urged her.

“Oh is that how it shall be?” She asked him, laughing, and so she leant back grinding hard against him, and he shivered. 

“Earn it!” He shot back at her and she smirked devilishly at him. 

“Very well,” she said, “then I shall make you come.”

“Not before I make you come again,” he growled at her, his hands going to her hips, pulling her down hard on him. Artanis leaned back, rocking her hips back and forth. In this position his cock was pressing against a different place within her, but it was no less pleasurable. She moaned as she rode him hard, trying to entice him, to undo him, and she looked at him with lust-veiled eyes, drawing her long golden hair over her shoulder and presenting it to him.

“Touch it,” she said. “I have never allowed anyone else to do so.” He could not refuse and he wound his hands in it, awe and lust mixed in his eyes. She began to grind her hips down hard again, taking him deep within her, enjoying that wonderful feeling of fullness. And what was pleasurable for her was pleasurable for him also for she heard him groan and watched as he threw his head back again, his fingers twined in her golden hair, his hips rising ever so slightly, carrying her up. She did not relent, but only rocked down on him more vigorously.

“Artanis,” her name spilled from his lips in a strangled gasp and then he grasped hard at her hips, rising up into her, thrusting deep up into her with a massive outpouring of strength and energy, pounding up into her and she screamed aloud, so loud that she thought for sure all of Menegroth must have heard, her whole body trembling hard, encased in smoldering heat that licked across her skin like flames and seared into her muscles. Her heart felt as though it would explode from her chest and she heard him gasp, “I’m coming,” as she came too. Then he stilled, groaning her name again, “Artanis, oh Artanis,” he murmured and she felt his seed, hot and sticky, filling her, coating her insides and she wanted all of it.

“Give it to me,” she pleaded, her eyes meeting his as he trembled beneath her, “give me all of it.” He rolled his head back again and still his semen was shooting into her. Then his whole body relaxed, it stopped, and he looked up at her, breathing hard. “Did you like it?” She asked him and he nodded. 

“Yes, Artanis, very much,” he said, and then, “thank you.”

“What for?” She asked him with a laugh.

“For this,” he said smiling up at her. 

“I’m the one who ought to be thanking you,” she said.

“No, I assure you, the honor is mine,” he said. She bent, kissing him tenderly, and then made to stand, but the second his cock came free of her, a cascade of white liquid came streaming out from her like the falls of the Sirion, running down her leg to splatter on his stomach.

“Oh!” She yelped, surprised. Somehow she had always assumed that it would stay inside. Celeborn laughed.

“That will happen,” he said, “it is no bother. If you have a cloth or…”

“Yes, of course,” she replied and rose to go to her dresser, jumping in surprise when she felt his hand connect with her backside and she turned back to find him laughing, looking a spectacle with his long limbs splayed out, covered in drying sweat, his own semen on his stomach. “Just you wait a moment,” she said with a grin.

“It was too perfect to resist,” he said and she teased him wiggling her bottom at him for a moment before she went to fetch the handkerchiefs and then she wiped the semen away, noticing that he had still not gone fully flaccid.

“I hope that you will be able to do that again,” she said, “because I can still walk.”

“Then I must certainly continue,” he teased her, “and I shall, I promise you, after I have had a moment to rest.”

She stood, fetching some water for both of them, and then returned to the bed, curling up beside him. Celeborn turned on his side, looking at her. “How was it,” he asked, “your first?”

“Better than I ever dreamed it could be,” she replied, smiling at him, and he reached out, pushing her hair back behind her ear, brushing his thumb across her cheek. “And I am looking forward to my second time.”

“That is good,” he laughed, pleased. “I hope I have adequately fulfilled all of the fantasies you have been having of me.”

“You are,” she said with a smile, “only…I want to do this many, many more times.”

“And we shall,” he said, “if you wish it, for I wish it. You are certainly more spectacular than all of my fantasies of you, and yet there are things that we have not yet tried that I would like to try.”

“Oh?” She asked, intrigued. “Tell me more. This time I would like to do what you want.”

“From behind,” he said simply. “Shall I show you?” And Artanis nodded eagerly. He knelt, turning towards her, positioning her in front of him on her hands and knees. She felt his hand move across her back and then he bent over her, his lips trailing a line of feather-light kisses down her spine and she gasped, closing her eyes, reveling in the sensation. She felt one of those wonderful fingers of his breech her easily, for she was still wet with the mixture of his semen and her own juices. She felt very hollow for a moment as he withdrew the finger and then she felt the head of his cock pressing against her and, slowly, he sheathed himself within her, his hands grasping her hips. 

“What do you think,” he asked her and she moaned.

“I like it,” she said. “I somehow feel as though I am entirely at your mercy this way, and there is something I like about it.” She turned, giving him her most seductive look and he grinned wolfishly.

“You are at my mercy,” he murmured, drawing out and thrusting back into her. “And I shall be merciful and give you the release you seek,” he punctuated his words with another thrust, “but not before I have made you beg for it.” She grunted as he pushed into her so hard that she nearly collapsed to the bed. His words had enticed her, excited her, and her cunt had gone tight about him. 

“I am a princess of the Noldor, of the house of Finwë,” she said with a grin, “and I will not beg for your cock.” At those words she felt him withdraw and she scrambled backwards, impaling herself once more. Celeborn laughed. 

“I believe you will find that a prince of the house of Elwë is perfectly capable of making you beg,” he said, lust evident in his voice as he gripped her hips tightly and began to thrust hard into her.

“Any prince, or just you?” She gasped before moaning loudly and pushing back against his thrusts. She almost felt as though he was even deeper within her this way and she relished in the feel of his hips against her own, of his thick cock within her. It felt so spectacularly good. 

“Just me,” he growled and she grinned.

“You said you would fuck me,” she murmured, taunting him. “Now, fuck me.”

“Giving me commands in my own palace are you?” He growled and she was surprised when she felt him grasp her hair, wrapping it around his fist as he began to thrust harder. She collapsed face-first into the pillows but he did not relent, continuing to pound into her as hard as he could and she found she could not restrain herself any longer as she opened her mouth and screamed, hands fisting tightly in the sheets.

“Celeborn, yes, yes, oh Valar, yes, fuck me!” She cried. She would never have thought that she would relish in any sort of loss of control, but she had never experienced anything as erotic as this and now she found that she wanted to lose all control, to turn it over completely to him and allow him to do whatever he wished to her.

He was slamming into her hard now and then she felt his hand connect with her ass. It surprised her so much that she clenched tight around him and nearly pushed his cock out of her. Then it came again, his hand connecting with her ass with a resounding smack. It hurt, but in the very best sort of way, and she felt a trickle of liquid run down her thigh from the place where he was joined with her. She had never been so wet in her life. Celeborn was threading his arms around her waist now and, thrusting slowly, shallowly, he pulled her up so that her back was against his chest. She closed her eyes, groaning, as his hands moved across the flat plane of her stomach, gripped and kneaded her firm breasts, as he bit her neck. She never wanted it to end. Then she felt his lips against her ear.

“Well?” He purred. “Do you like being spanked, Artanis?”

“Do it again,” was all she managed to gasp and she twisted so that she could kiss him, their tongues battling for control. Then she threw herself down on her hands again and said, “do it,” waiting for the slap to come, but it didn’t and he stilled within her, but she could still feel his thick cock pulsing within her cunt. 

“Beg,” he said simply. 

“No,” she shot back, grinning and biting her lip, toying with him. She knew that his pleasure would be all the greater the longer she held out. She felt him withdraw a little more and she longed for the feeling of his hand, firm and strong, against her backside once more, longed to surrender to him, to give up all control. 

“Beg me,” Celeborn growled and he withdrew a little more.

“Never,” she gasped. Then she felt his fingers at one of her breasts, twisting her nipple just a bit and she convulsed with pleasure. That! That had nearly brought her to orgasm. It seemed a river was running out of her cunt now and she whimpered. He withdrew still a bit more so that only the tip was left within her and twisted her nipple further. She nearly collapsed from the waves of ecstasy that were washing over her.

“And now?” He purred. She found not the strength for words but shook her head instead. Then she felt his cock withdraw from her completely, his fingers release her and she could bear it no longer, had no more strength for pride.

“Please, Celeborn, PLEASE!” She cried but he only laughed.

“Please what?” He asked cockily.

“Fuck me!” She shouted, not caring if the entire city heard her.

“Say it all together now,” he urged her.

“Please, Celeborn, please fuck me!” She shouted. “I need you. I need your cock. Please, for the love of all that is holy, give it to me I beg you!” He obliged, sheathing himself in her in one fluid stroke and she shouted as she felt his hand land hard on her ass. “YES!” She cried. 

And then he was pounding her hard, thrusting into her with as much force as he could muster while he landed blow after blow across the tender white skin of her backside. She was moaning, a nonsensical cacophony of sounds of pleasure, and then it was as though she felt something within her burst and she was floating, shivering, clenching tightly around him. And she heard him groan, “I’m coming.” As he spilled his seed within her once more, she writhed beneath him in the throes of her own pleasure, feeling as though her entire body had been lit aflame, and then they both collapsed at the same time, he atop her, too spent for a while to move. 

At last she felt him move out of her and the liquid poured forth but she sat up quickly, catching it in her hand and, while he watched her with those beautiful green eyes of his, she put her hand to her mouth, tipping the semen into it, some of it running down her face, and she swallowed, licking her lips, her fingers.

Celeborn was quite the vision, collapsed back against the pillows, still breathing hard, his skin and the rippling muscles of his sculpted body coated in a sheen of sweat. He stared at her in disbelief as if he could not believe what she had just done and she raised an eyebrow at him, as if to ask what he was thinking.

“That was possibly the most erotic thing I have ever seen,” he said and she grinned, crawling over to seat herself in his lap. 

“Best orgasm you’ve ever had?” She asked, her eyes twinkling. He nodded as though he were in a daze.

“Absolutely the best,” he said. He slid down into the sheets. “Come here,” he said, holding out his arms, and she curled up in his embrace, her body against his, both still sticky from their exploits. There was something that felt so wonderful about having him hold her and she closed her eyes, exhausted. “Can you still walk?” He asked her with a quiet laugh.

“No,” she said, smiling, shaking her head, “I don’t think so.”

“Then my job is done,” he whispered, pressing a kiss to the top of her forehead. She fell asleep before him, curled in his arms, and the candles died one by one until only starlight was left, shining down on them from the enchanted ceiling above.

It was strange, Celeborn thought, that in this, his moment of triumph, he should feel so very sad. For what he had said was true: he had desired her greatly and, now that he had had her, he desired her all the more. And yes, she had said that she wished to do this again, with him. But he had lied when he said that was all he wanted, because most of all he wanted to love her, to live with her, for her to share his bed every night, to wake beside her each morning, to court her, to marry her, to have children with her, to live without shame. He watched the starlight glimmer on her golden hair and gently ran his hands through it.

She had thought he would hate her for her straightforwardness, for her unabashed manner, for the fearlessness that seemed to emanate from every fiber of her being, and he wondered who had taught her to fear these things, to hide them away, for he loved those qualities and he thought her the single more interesting, most wonderful, most humorous, most fantastic woman he had ever met in his life. _You’ve already gotten what you wanted_ , she had said after the first time he had fucked her. _But I haven’t_ , he thought to himself. _I want you, Galadriel_ , for that was what he called her in his mind, _and not only your body, but you, all of you._

And what would happen now? How would she react now if he were to propose courtship, if he were to tell her how he truly felt about her? Would she throw him out? Would she hate him for having deceived her by saying he wanted nothing more? Would she think it all a ruse on his part, an attempt to keep fucking her for as long as he could? _No_ , he thought, _better to remain silent. At least this way I can be with her for a while, even if she is only using me. It is better than being without her, better than never touching her again, never kissing her. She was up front with me about her expectations. It is not her fault that I was not honest with her._

He sighed but, as he did so, he felt her small hand lacing her fingers in his and heard her whisper, “Celeborn, are you still awake?”

“Yes,” he said, his heart hammering in his chest, and he turned on his side to see her looking at him, the starlight reflected in her eyes, a small smile playing about the corners of her lips.

“There was just…one more thing I wanted to do tonight,” she whispered and he nodded.

“Whatever you like,” he said, wishing that he had the power to say ‘no’ instead so that he would not keep falling so deeply in love with her.

“I wanted…” she whispered, suddenly looking unsure, as if she were embarrassed, biting her lip. “I just,” she began again, “I just was wondering what it would be like to…to um…to make love. Do you know what I mean? Not…not sex but… Forget it,” she stammered then, shaking her head, blushing red, “it is a stupid idea.” And she made to turn away from him but he caught her and turned her back to him.

“It is not a stupid idea,” he said and Galadriel looked at him, still seeming a bit unsure, almost as if she feared his rejection.

“We could…we could pretend,” she stammered, “pretend that we love each other and…”

“Yes, exactly that,” he said, “we can pretend.” Only he wouldn’t be pretending. For him it was so heart-breakingly real. 

“Can you show me then?” She asked nervously. “Surely you must have…”

“Of course,” he told her, nodding. But he never had. He had never made love to anyone before. He had never loved anyone before, not like he loved her. Her skin was cool now and she lay on her back as he moved atop her. 

“Kiss me,” she whispered and he did, tenderly, gently, lingering on the taste of her lips that moved so sweetly against his own, threading his hands through the soft silk of her hair. He cradled her face in his hands as he brushed his lips over hers, tasting them, his tongue meeting hers gently, joining them.

He would have gladly kissed her forever but he moved down then, placing a trail of kisses between her breasts, caressing each of them, holding them in his hands. “You are perfect,” he whispered to her, taking each nipple in his mouth in turn and laving them gently with his tongue. Her gentle whimper and gasp was his reward, the way that she arched her back up ever so slightly. With his tongue he traced a path downwards until he reached the heat of her and then he placed kisses on the silky smooth skin of the insides of her thighs. He bit down ever so gently, sucking the skin in between his teeth, and felt her hands in his silver hair.

“What are you doing?” She murmured.

“Marking you,” he said, “so that you remember me.” She moaned softly and arched up towards him. He let go then, looking at the purple mark blossoming already on the inside of her thigh before he slid his tongue inside of her and the soft moan she gave him in reply was music to his ears. He wanted to please her, to make her happy, to love her, even if he couldn’t love her the way that he wanted. He felt her reach for him, gently twining her fingers in his hair and he lapped at her, slowly, two fingers inside the warmth of her slowly drawing forth her ecstasy until her hips bucked shallowly and she cried out his name softly, “Celeborn!” He heard her gasp as she came, the strong muscles inside of her clenching rhythmically around his fingers, and then she sighed, growing still, and he moved atop her again, making his way back up her lithe body.

“You remembered exactly what I liked,” she said, as if she could hardly believe he was so considerate.

“I did,” he said, smiling down at her, and she stroked the side of his face, smiling, before she drew him in for another kiss. This one too was slow, and lingering, and sweet, and he drew away again, positioning himself at her entrance, wrapping his arms around her, holding her, he lost himself in her gaze for a moment before, slowly, kissing her with all the gentleness in the world, he entered her.

She moaned softly into his mouth, her hips rising up to meet him until he was fully sheathed within her. The feeling was indescribable, even after he had already been in her. The feeling of her heat encasing him, of knowing that he was within her, that she had welcomed him within her was nearly overwhelming and he had to pause for a moment before he could continue. It was a moment in which he felt her gentle hands exploring his back, coming down to feel his hips, running over his arms, and she smiled at him, that magnificent smile of hers, and he did not know whether his heart would break or blossom. Then she reached up for him, drawing his face down to hers and, kissing one another, they began to move in concert.

He started out gradually, thrusting deep and slow, as she liked, watching the passion that burned in her eyes that were fixed on his, the way that her lips were parted, whispering his name like a litany. Her skin was soft against his, her breasts firm against his chest, and the feeling of her hips against his, slowly rising to meet him, of her thighs cradling him, of her legs wrapped around him made him feel as though he were dying, as though all the loneliness of these long years full of blood, and death, and war in Middle-earth were pulling at him and she was the one thing holding him here, holding him within her, refusing to allow him to slip away into the darkness. 

“Artanis,” he gasped, stroking her face with his hands as with his body he stroked her deep inside. She gasped, her eyes fluttering shut, and threw her head back into the pillows for a moment before he felt her begin to move against him more surely, her hips rising up to meet his fully, sweat clinging to the both of them, skin slipping over skin. 

“Lie to me, Celeborn,” she whispered, opening her eyes, and it was there in the depths of them: what she really wanted. She was imploring him now for it, for love. He knew what she wanted him to say, only it wasn’t a lie; it was the truth. And yet, he wondered how she could long for love like this, so that she had to take a man who was nearly a stranger to her into her bed and beg him to tell her he loved her. He would have thought that she could have the love of any man she wished and yet, watching her now, he could see in her eyes how very alone she felt. 

“I love you,” he whispered, pouring ever fiber of his being into those three words as though he could make them ring true with the timbre of his voice, beat with his heart, live with his soul. He wanted her to feel loved, and so he loved her, all the while imagining that he must be some substitute for someone else, someone who had not loved her, someone she had left behind perhaps.

And yet it was his name that she was whispering to the stars and his name that she whispered now, saying, “Celeborn, I love you.” There was an intensity burning in her eyes along with that strange light that all of the Noldor bore there, such an intensity that he might have believed her had she not told him herself that she wanted nothing from him: no marriage, no courtship. 

Yet the words had seemed to bring her even more fully to life and he felt her body rise into his, her hands grasping at him, clutching at his back, her nails biting into his skin as she pulled him so close to her that it was nearly as though she were trying to make them one. He could control himself no longer, could not manage the slow strokes. He had allowed himself to believe that she had meant what she said, that she loved him; after all, she was pretending so why shouldn’t he?

He began to move faster, overwhelmed by how perfectly their bodies fit together, almost as though they had been made for this purpose, and he wanted more than anything to make it so, for it to be like this always, except not in pretend, but in truth. “Celeborn!” She moaned his name, her eyes meeting his. “I’m so close…” She whispered and he captured her lips with his, first in a bruising kiss, next in a gentle one and then he too could take it no longer.

“Artanis, I’m going to come,” he gasped and she wrapped her legs around him tightly, pulling him deep into her, holding him there. 

“Come for me. I want you, all of you,” she whispered as he wrapped his arms around her and she cradled his head in her hands, kissing him softly and sweetly, her lips lingering on his as she opened her eyes, looking into his eyes, and he spilled himself in her, gasping quietly as his body twitched and wave after wave of pleasure washed over him. She wrapped her arms around him, holding him close, and he gazed into her perfect eyes before he kissed her deeply and then collapsed, spent. “Galadriel,” he had exhaled the name, softly, like a breath into her ear and he felt her stir, laugh, in that moment of fear in which he realized he had said what he ought not to have; it had just slipped out and now he could not take it back.

“I don’t know that word,” she said and he propped himself back up on his elbows. “I’m afraid my Sindarin is still rather poor.”

“Forget it,” he said, his heart hammering in his chest. “It means nothing.” 

“Thank you,” she whispered with a smile, her eyes half lidded, sleep beginning to come upon her already. He gathered her into his arms, watching as she slowly slipped off to the world of peaceful dreams while he, like a man tormented, could find no sleep.

"I am a fool," he thought with dread.


End file.
